Любовник леди Чаттерлей

           Shehadfoundherscrapofhandkerchiefandwasblindlytryingtodryherface.

           ’Shallyoucometothehut?’hesaid,inaquiet,neutralvoice.

           Andclosinghishandsoftlyonherupperarm,hedrewherupandledherslowlytothehut,notlettinggoofhertillshewasinside.Thenheclearedasidethechairandtable,andtookabrown,soldier’sblanketfromthetoolchest,spreadingitslowly.Sheglancedathisface,asshestoodmotionless.

           Hisfacewaspaleandwithoutexpression,likethatofamansubmittingtofate.

           ’Youliethere,’hesaidsoftly,andheshutthedoor,sothatitwasdark,quitedark.

           Withaqueerobedience,shelaydownontheblanket.Thenshefeltthesoft,groping,helplesslydesiroushandtouchingherbody,feelingforherface.Thehandstrokedherfacesoftly,softly,withinfinitesoothingandassurance,andatlasttherewasthesofttouchofakissonhercheek.

           Shelayquitestill,inasortofsleep,inasortofdream.Thenshequiveredasshefelthishandgropingsoftly,yetwithqueerthwartedclumsiness,amongherclothing.Yetthehandknew,too,howtounclotheherwhereitwanted.Hedrewdownthethinsilksheath,slowly,carefully,rightdownandoverherfeet.Thenwithaquiverofexquisitepleasurehetouchedthewarmsoftbody,andtouchedhernavelforamomentinakiss.Andhehadtocomeintoheratonce,toenterthepeaceonearthofhersoft,quiescentbody.Itwasthemomentofpurepeaceforhim,theentryintothebodyofthewoman.

           Shelaystill,inakindofsleep,alwaysinakindofsleep.